The Russian sentry ran out into the middle of the road to stop me. He was a poor peasant, perhaps from the banks of the Volga, who must have thought that the Evil One himself was upon him. I saw his face blanch, and almost heard the chattering of his teeth, but he did not flinch from his duty. I rode right over him, and I am sorry to say that I believe he was killed. [Illustration: “I rode right over him.”] The Austrian sentry simply fired off his gun as a warning to his comrades at the guard-house further along the road. They swarmed out, and I pulled up the machine. I had put the brake on immediately after crossing into Austrian territory. ‘In the Emperor’s name!’ I whispered to the Austrian officer of the guard. ‘I am not an Englishman, but a member of the Austrian Secret Service. By allowing me to pass without delay you will render the Government a vital service.’ ‘You have just killed a man,’ the officer objected, pointing to the blood on my wheels. ‘I am afraid so. The fact that I killed a Russian sentry in order to cross the frontier should convince you that I am in deadly earnest.’ The officer, by some rare chance, was intelligent enough to believe me. ‘Pass on, sir,’ he said. I pressed the lever, and set out on my mad race across an Empire to Vienna. I had nothing to eat or drink. I had no shields for my eyes; the Russian soldiers must have removed them while the car was in their hands. I was utterly unprepared for my terrible journey. But some intuition warned me that every moment was precious, and I kept my splendid machine at full pressure for the whole five hundred miles. I will not attempt to describe that nightmare ride. Late in the evening of the following day, I alighted at the gate of the palace of Schönbrunn, worn-out, my face and hands chapped and bleeding, my eyes half-blinded with dust, and my strength nearly gone. ‘The Emperor! Take me to the Emperor!’ I gasped to the first person I met. ‘It is life or death!’ I was conducted into the presence of a chamberlain, who sought to impose all sorts of obstacles. ‘You cannot see his Majesty now. I dare not intrude upon him. He is closeted with the Archdukes. It is a Habsburg Family Council.’ ‘My God!’ I cried out. ‘You have given me ten thousand reasons for insisting! If it costs my life, I must interrupt his Majesty.’ My violence cowed the official. He conducted me, or, in fact, supported me, for I was almost too weak to stand, to the door of the Council Chamber. ‘Go in, if you must,’ he said. ‘For my part, I dare not announce you.’ I turned the handle of the door, and staggered into the room.